


Linger in Silence

by infinitevariety (disapparater)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Asexual Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Takes a Nap (Good Omens), Fluff, M/M, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Silence, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:22:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29899665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disapparater/pseuds/infinitevariety
Summary: Aziraphale appreciates some peace and quiet.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	Linger in Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by an ask I got on tumblr and originally posted [here](https://infinitevariety.tumblr.com/post/644845793423081472/prompt-for-you-silence).

“Would you like another cup of tea, dear?”

When an answer is not forthcoming, Aziraphale looks up from his book to find Crowley asleep on the sofa. Aziraphale smiles. Seeing Crowley sprawled out on the sofa snoozing is not an unusual occurrence, but Aziraphale takes a moment to commit this occasion to memory, because it is the first time it has happened since they moved into their South Downs cottage a week ago.

After looking his fill, Aziraphale puts aside his book, stands up, and moves across to the sofa. He plucks the blanket that has been hanging over the back and unfolds it. With a smile, Aziraphale gently lays it over Crowley and tucks him in. The television programme Crowley had been watching continues to blare in the background, so Aziraphale stops to turn it off as he makes his way to the kitchen.

He returns with a steaming mug of camomile and settles himself back in his armchair. After another look at Crowley, eyes closed in the picture of peace, Aziraphale picks up his book and continues reading.

Two minutes later he puts the book down again.

With a huff, Aziraphale picks up his tea and takes a sip. The camomile is soothing, and Aziraphale feels himself relax. Tension he wasn’t aware he was carrying eases from his shoulders. He sighs. Satisfied, Aziraphale puts his tea back down and picks his book back up.

Not even two minutes later he slams the book shut.

He can’t focus. He’s reading the words, but not absorbing them. His brain is jumping around, thinking of other things. Aziraphale loves to read, and he can’t remember the last time he found it this _difficult_.

Closing his eyes, Aziraphale tries to clear his mind of distractions. That’s when he notices it.

Silence.

Without the television on; without Crowley moving about the house, talking to Aziraphale or shouting at his plants; without music from the gramophone… the house is silent.

Aziraphale is used to the hustle and bustle of central London. The bookshop itself may have been a subdued sanctuary, but outside there was constant noise. Car horns, drunken revellers, emergency sirens, reversing delivery vans, pumping pub music. There is none of that, out here in the countryside.

Trying to shake off his expectations, Aziraphale keeps his eyes closed and consciously _listens_ to the silence of the South Downs. Gradually, the more subtle sounds of their new surroundings filter through to him. He hears wind rustling through the trees, the birds serenading each other, the joy of children’s laughter down the street. Aziraphale tilts his head slightly, eager now to hear one particular sound. The wind must be in his favour, or else it is Aziraphale’s angelic hearing, but the sound comes to him. From a mile or so down the road and across the pebbled beach. The ocean.

With a contented wiggle, Aziraphale opens his eyes and picks up his book. This time, he’s certain he will be able to concentrate.

Aziraphale is not sure how long has passed when a new sound pulls him from the words on the page. He looks up to see the sun setting, casting deep red streaks across the sky. He looks over at Crowley, still asleep on the sofa, and smiles. Then the sound comes again, from deep within the mess of limbs and blankets.

A snore.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi and drop me a prompt on [tumblr](https://infinitevariety.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
